Cain-Tervention
by jennytork
Summary: What if there was another way? What if Cain decided not to give Dean the Mark - but gave him something else? What if Cain gave Dean back his brother?
1. Chapter 1

**CAIN-TERVENTION**

The First Murderer looked deep into his eyes and took his hand in a tight handshake. "If you do this – there will be consequences."

Dean glared in reply and ground out, "It's a means to an end. I'll deal with the consequences."

"Will you?" Cain's eyes narrowed. "Will you really?"

And Dean felt a searing, white-hot agony rip into his right forearm and spread through his entire body. When he picked himself up off the floor, he was alone.

And his arm was branded with the stylised backwards "F" that Cain had sported.

The next few months were a haze of bloodshed and alcohol. Without Sam's anchor – Dean kept hearing the damning words that he would let Dean die – he felt adrift. The only times he felt even marginally like himself was when he held the jawbone of an ass that was the First Blade and was able to wield it, killing anything that he deemed needed it.

He was judge. He was jury. He was executioner. He was in control.

Dean was the killer he'd always known he was.

And if he was alone? Hell, it was no less than he deserved.

Abaddon was no match for him. So he figured Metatron wouldn't be, either.

It was a fatal mistake.

He felt the spell weaving when he was about to leave his body. He felt that bastard Crowley doing something to him, through the Mark. He felt-

-He felt a hand squeeze his and he felt his eyes open.

He found himself staring into the amused eyes of the First Murderer. "So," Cain said with the same level of amusement in his voice. "Tell me again that you can accept the consequences."

Dean swallowed hard and forced his answer out through clenched teeth. "...there's no other choice..."

"And who told you that?" Cain asked. "Crowley? The demon bastard of a human witch who's been weaving a spell around you?"

From the next room came Crowley's indignant "HEY!"

Dean frowned as Cain released his hand. "...a spell? What..."

"Please," Cain sniffed. "I can smell it all over you. It's a suggestibility spell – to make you willing to trust him, so long as he believes he is speaking the truth."

Dean glared in Crowley's direction, but said, "If it's the truth, then there's no other way." He held out his hand. "So give it to me."

"I didn't say it was the truth. I said he believes it is the truth." Cain moved to the table and calmly poured a drink. "Lies that are believed to be truth are still lies."

Dean blinked as that settled into his mind. "...so there's another way to kill Abaddon?"

"Plenty." Cain looked into his eyes. "You just have to put in the time to find them."

"And in the meantime, that bitch-"

"Does what Knights of Hell do. Believe me, she will fly under the radar until she's ready to make her move." He knocked back his drink. "You have two advantages she doesn't." At Dean's incredulous look, Cain said, "You have a massive repository at your fingertips. Abaddon has no idea what's in there. She made her move prematurely. Oh, yes, I know about that. Your puppet master in there hasn't bothered to shield his thoughts. He doesn't think I have the juice without the Blade to read them."

"Oh, he is so breaking this spell once I get hold of him," Dean snarled. "And what's the second advantage? You said I have two."

"Your brother."

Dean snorted. "He's not my brother anymore."

"Don't be stupid. Of course he is. You think brothers stop being brothers by saying words? Dean, I _killed_ my brother – and he is still, and always will be, _my brother. _Whatever he said to you was calculated to hurt – because that's how brothers lash out when they're hurt. God knows Abel and I had more than our share of words."

When that sank in, Dean sat down at the table, gratefully accepting the finger of whiskey Cain slid down the table to him. "...so what do I do?"

"Go home. Tell your brother you're sorry. Work with him to find something in that massive repository of yours to kill Abaddon. I can't give you the mark, but I can give you something."

Dean frowned. "You can't give me the mark? Or won't?"

"Six of one, half a dozen of the other. Won't because there's another way. Can't because you're the Righteous Man, who went to Hell for his brother – and that future I showed you might be mild in comparison to the reality if that kind of good got hold of the Mark of Cain." He stood. "Now, let's stop talking about what I can't or won't do and focus on what I can and will."

"Which is what?" Dean asked.

Cain held out his hand, and Dean's phone flew into it. He opened it and sent a text. "Give you something to eat while we wait."

"Wait? For what?"

Cain tossed the phone back to him. "For your brother to arrive."

"What?" Dean roared and snatched the phone. "What the hell—!"

The phone flared to life in his hands – a text from Sam. _Be there in 2 hours._

Cain smiled at Dean. "Want something to eat while we wait? I make a good grilled cheese and tomato soup."

"Uh – hello?" Crowley yelled from the other room. "Remember me?"

"Unfortunately," Cain growled. He walked over and opened the door, drawing a sigil onto it before slamming it closed. There was a flare of light, and it grew very silent in the room.

Dean blinked. "What did you do?"

"It will take him awhile to find his way back here," Cain said, turning to the stove. "Now...about that food."

Dean sighed. "Can... Can there be rice in that soup?"

"I think there's some in the cabinet," Cain replied.

**TO BE CONTINUED...**


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Can's eyes widened as Sam walked up to the door. "That's your _little _brother?"

Despite everything, Dean couldn't hep but laugh. "Yeah, it's totally not fair." He moved to the stove and ladled out a bowl of soup.

Sam walked in, frowning as he felt wards tingle against his skin. He drew his gun and led the way with it around the corner -

And found himself pointing it at Dean, who was holding out a bowl of soup. "Tomato rice," he said, nodding at the man firing up a fresh grilled cheese sandwich. "That's Cain."

Sam instinctively put the gun away and took the bowl. "You brought me here – to feed me?" he asked, sitting down at the table and nodding at the man. "Cain what?"

"Just Cain," he replied, sitting between the brothers as Dean sat opposite Sam. "My father was Adam, and my mother Eve."

Sam choked on his soup. "Wait," he gasped once he had himself under control. "Cain? As in Cain and _Abel Cain?"_

"The one and the same," Dean said. "Listen, Sammy..." And he told Sam everything that had happened since he drove away.

Shaking his head, Sam pushed the soup aside. "Since when do you blindly believe _Crowley?"_

"Since the son-of-a-bitch apparently is casting a spell on me to make me suggestible to him," Dean growled. "And according to Cain, here, that spell's twisting what you're telling me. So I'm going to ask you flat-out – and I'm going to listen." He took a deep breath, not at all sure he wanted to know the answer – but needing to know anyway. "So - _did _you tell me that you wouldn't save my life if I was dying?"

"No," Sam said instantly. "I said if the circumstances were the same – if _you_ had been possessed over and over and _another_ possession was the only choice to save you, and if you wanted to go?" He shook his head. "It would kill me, and I'd be right behind you – but I'd let you go."

Dean drew in another breath, this one a little shaky. "Okay," he said, proving to Sam that this time he had heard correctly. "I can see that. But I didn't know you were ready to go. After what we said at the church, I thought we were good."

"We were," Sam said. "But then there was Death, and he was giving me a choice..."

"I know," Dean said. "I saw. And I meant what I said in there. There _ain't_ no me if there ain't no you."

Sam froze. "That... That was really you? That wasn't that son of a bitch-"

"That was really me, yeah. I shouldn't have let him block your memories and shit – that was wrong. And if he'd told the truth about who he was, we might have been able to avoid-" His jaw ticked, "...Kevin. But I _can't _apologise for having him heal you. Everything else – yeah. That was wrong and I'm sorry you have to live with those memories. But _not _his healing you."

Sam studied his eyes – and then took a deep breath of his own. _"That's _what you meant."

"Yeah – that's what I meant."

A slow nod, and Sam picked at his sandwich. "I... I don't regret that part of it. Dean, I didn't really mean that about not being brothers-"

Cain scoffed at that. "I told him that meant nothing. Brothers are brothers forever, no matter what."

Sam met his eyes. "He uses it as justification for every-"

"Don't _you_ ever?" Cain pointedly asked, and Sam's eyes dropped.

"You were hurt and angry," Cain went on, eyes pinning Sam in place. "Your words were designed to wound. You thought he would push back, you'd get it out and get it settled. And if he hadn't been under that spell, that might have happened."

"And instead-" Sam whispered as his eyes flicked to Dean, who was sitting there with wide eyes as the First Murderer laid both brothers bare with nothing more than words. "...I destroyed him. His strength – it's always been in his family. But I took that away."

"Wasn't the first time," Dean muttered.

"So," Cain interrupted. "You've got a pattern of this? Agreed?" When both reluctantly nodded, Cain went on, "But you're able to set it aside when there is work to be done. And right now? There is a job to do."

"A job?" Sam frowned. "We've got nothing."

"We've got the Bunker," Dean said. "Josie Sands didn't know what it held or where it was. That means Abaddon doesn't know. We can find answers there."

Sam's eyes widened, then he grinned. "You do realise you've just agreed to marathon research and archiving with me."

Dean blinked owlishly, then dropped his head to the table, "Aw, _dammit!"_

Sam insisted on helping clean after the meal, and then the brothers said goodbye. Dean paused in the doorway and asked softly, "What if we can't find another way to kill Abaddon other than the First Blade?"

Cain touched his arm. "Then find me. You will know how if the time comes. I will take care of her personally."

Satisfied, Dean got into the Impala and watched Sam slide in beside him. "What about your car?"

"It's not mine. I'll put in a found stolen auto report once we're home."

Dean grinned as he pulled out. "You called it 'home'."

"Dean, listen ... what's going on with us-"

"I know," Dean cut him off. "One talk isn't going to fix everything. But..." He licked his lips. "But can you agree that it's a start?"

"Yeah," Sam smiled. "It's a start. We can go from there." The smile faded, replaced with determination. "Starting with finding and breaking that spell Crowley's got on you."

Dean nodded. "Then we scour those archives and find out how to destroy Abaddon."

"And Metatron."

"And Metatron," Dean agreed.

Sam pulled out his tablet and turned on the mobile hotspot on his phone. "Okay," he said firmly. "We've got work to do."

"Yeah." Dean couldn't stop the smile when he realised that, for the first time since the hospital after the church, they were finally on the same page. "Yeah, we do."

**END**


End file.
